


Scorched

by Never laugh at a live Sherlock (smaugholmeswatson)



Series: Inktober 2018 [19]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: After 'Heart of the Phoenix', Angst, Dragon John, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Inktober 2018, M/M, Married Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Nightmares, POV John Watson, Pheonix Sherlock, Sorry it's very late, established universe, past trauma, vague mentions of ptsd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-16 23:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16963512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaugholmeswatson/pseuds/Never%20laugh%20at%20a%20live%20Sherlock
Summary: So I have managed to get ridiculously far behind with Inktober and it's mostly due to three university assignments due in the same week. The deadline has gone now though so I will finally be able to focus on my fan-fiction again without any distractions.This short little story leads on from 'The heart of the phoenix' and has poor John and Sherlock finding themselves struggling to cope with everything that happened to them during the events of that story. Sherlock was captured by Moriarty but it turned out Moriarty was being manipulated by Charles Augustus Magnussum who wanted to control Sherlock by turning him into a pet. Aside from that short explanation no other previous knowledge is really required.Though if you would like extra background to this short story please feel full to read 'Heart of the Phoenix'. :)





	Scorched

Something dramatic happened while I was sleeping if the scorch marks on the walls are anything to go by. Honestly I am amazed I amanged to sleep through it- whatever 'it' might turn out to be. Yawning and rubbing sleep from my eyes I roll over expecting to be greeted by a sleeping Sherlock smiling at me. My heart stutters faintly when I find his side of the bed is empty. When I reach out a tentative hand the sheets are cold to the touch. Whatever happened must have been a while ago. Something that just makes me worry all the more. Surely I would have sensed it if something bad had happened to Sherlock. 

Slowly, still not really awake, I throw off the covers and sit up, pausing long enough to ran a hand through my messy hair as I glance over at the window. I let out a sigh of irritation. It is still dark outside, at least the early hours of the morning judging by the ever so slight faint pink glow starting to appear above the rooftops of the buildings opposite the flat. I am beginning to grow tired of the nightmares that keep disturbing my sleep. It wouldn't maybe be so bad if they changed every once in a while but every single night is exactly the same as I find myself reliving the horrors Sherlock and I suffered at the hands of Charles Augustus Magnussum. I honestly don't think I've gotten a proper night's sleep in months and it is beginning to take a toll on me. Surely at some point the nightmares have to stop. 

For now though my concern for Sherlock drowns these thoughts out and it gives my the strength to push the thoughts and the darkness to one side for a little bit. I don't really want to dwell on it for longer than I have to. My priority is finding out what could have caused the scorch marks and where Sherlock has gone to. Hopefully he'll be sitting in the kitchen as he has been prone to doing for the past couple to months. I don't think I'm the only one who is suffering from nightmares. 

Quicky I pull on some clothes and make my way along the corridor, walking into the kitchen to find it empty. My heart sinks a little and my breathing catches as panic rises within me. I swallow hard, somehow managing to force it back down again. It requires a huge effort of will though and I can already feel my head starting to throb with the beginnings of a nasty headache. I need to remain calm to figure this out. All panic is good for is drowning out sensible thoughts. With this in mind I stand quietly in the kitchen for a moment, taking deep breaths to center myself. Once I feel steady enough I head through into the living room. 

I clear my throat. "Sherlock?" I call, wishing there wasn't such an audible shake in my voice, "Are you here?" 

There is silence for a long, almost unbearable, second and I am already reaching for my phone to call Greg when I hear a small sigh from behind me. "John, you're up. I didn't expect to see you for another couple of hours." Sherlock says in a voice that is heavy with weariness. 

Immediatly the panic drains out of me and I turn around to find Sherlock curled up on the sofa, his blue eyes distant as he stares off into space at something only he can see. Judging by the dark black and purple shadows beneath his eyes his night has been almost as bad as mine. "I couldn't sleep. That stupid nightmare is keeping me awake again." I say, slumping down onto the floor beside the sofa and resting my forehead on my knees. "How about you? Why are you awake?" 

Sherlock lets out another sigh. I look up at him to find him watching me with an intense sadness in his blue eyes. It is an emotion I haven't seen on him for a long time and I reach up to take his hand. Sherlock shivers slightly but doesn't pull away. "I keep reliving everything that happened last year. I keep remembering the horrible feeling of not being able to control my own body and of being helpless to do anything while Moriarty hurt you." He swallows hard, his voice breaking as he struggles to hold back tears. 

I squeeze his hand tightly. "None of that was your fault. Moriarty drugged you to keep you docile." I say, pleading for him to listen to me. He looks away from me however, seemingly unable to look me in the eye. 

When he speaks again Sherlock voice is strained and his eyes sparkle with tears he was refusing to shed. "But it was my fault. If I hadn't revealed my shifter form Magnussum would never have come after me and you would have been safe. You would never have ended up in his clutches as well." He cries, his voice full of anguish. 

I shake my head, feeling a momentary frustration towards him. Somehow I have to get him to understand that it wouldn't his fault. "But if you hadn't shifted that bomb blast would have killed me. You saved my life, Sherlock." I say, struggling to keep my voice calm, "I owe everything to you." It's true. Without Sherlock and his Phoenix powers I would have died at least three times over during the past year. Being a dragon is only great if something needs to be set on fire. 

It takes a minute but finally Sherlock meets my gaze once again. I am pleased to note that much of the sadness appears to have gone, instead being replaced by a softness and a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You don't owe me anything, my love. Without you there beside me there is no way I could have kept hold of my sanity in that place. Besides," He continues, his smile growing a little wider as he leans down and places a gentle kiss on my cheek, "the day you agreed to marry me will always be the best day of my life. You have given me the world and I could never ask for anything more." He pauses and glances in the direction of the bedroom. "I'm sorry about the scorch marks by the way. I think I panicked in my sleep and threw a fireball at the wall." He says, sounding a little sheepish. 

"Why didn't you wake me? You don't have to suffer alone, you know." I say, realising in that moment I have been doing exactly that. Struggling to cope with my nightmares alone because I didn't want to burden Sherlock with them. I shake my head in disgust at myself and vow that it won't happen again. Neither of us should have to suffer in silence. "I love you Sherlock. You know that, right?" I ask, shifting sideways so I can reach up and lightly stroke his cheek. 

Sherlock's smile turns into a bemused looking grin. "Of course I know that. What are you going on about?" 

In answer I close the distance between us and press my lips to his, kissing him slowly and deeply before leaning back and gazing deep into his eyes. "We're going to get through this. We can't give in to the nightmares or the guilt. If we do Magnussum wins and I refuse to give that bastard the satisfaction. We can survive this." I say with much more conviction then I am currently feeling. 

Picking up on my mood Sherlock leans forward and rests his forehead against mine. "Everything will get better from now on." He says, trying to sound upbeat and reassuring but failing slightly due to the shake in his voice. 

* * * * 

Oh if only we had known then that everything was about to get a whole lot worse perhaps the outcome could have been different. But at that moment, as we comforted one another from our terrible nightmares, we were too full of hope to even suspect something was brewing, something that would end up changing our world forever... 


End file.
